


you better not cry, you better not pout

by Witcher_Trash_Party



Series: Witcher Trash Party [9]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Dark Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Underage, M/M, Manipulation, Underage Rape/Non-con, jaskier just wants a puppy, mall santa!geralt, this is going to fuck jaskier up a few years down the line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28269897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witcher_Trash_Party/pseuds/Witcher_Trash_Party
Summary: Jaskier wanders away from his parents’ shopping cart while they fuss over his little sister. Luckily for him, he runs into none other but Santa Claus, so he's able to tell him that he really, really,reallywants a puppy for Christmas.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher Trash Party [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990582
Comments: 7
Kudos: 148
Collections: Witcher Dead Dove Flock





	you better not cry, you better not pout

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkBard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkBard/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to everyone in the witcher dead dove server, and most of all to my dear friend DarkBard - I won't apologize for giving you a Santa kink, but this is the second best I can do.

Jaskier wanders away from his parents’ shopping cart while they fuss over his little sister Pris. Priscilla is way too little to be interesting for Jaskier - it was cool when she was born, Jaskier supposes, but now that the novelty of having a sister has worn off, Jaskier finds he doesn’t really care for her. Sure, he loves her, but she’s… boring. The only things that she does are sleeping, lying down or crying. Jaskier would love to play with her, but she doesn’t understand his games yet. And, to be honest, Jaskier thinks she doesn’t deserve all the attention she gets from their parents.

So yeah, rather than idly watching another one of Pris’ outbursts, Jaskier explores. He likes malls - they are big and colourful and flashy and shiny and even more fun to explore when there is no mum to tell him “not to touch anything else he breaks it”.

His feet automatically take him to where he has seen the toy aisle. Stocked with dolls, hero figurines and LEGO sets, it triggers a deep yearning in Jaskier’s chest, especially this close to Christmas.

He takes a deep breath. _No_. This Christmas, he’s keeping it simple. No fluffy plushies, no colourful trading cards, no huge marker sets.

Just a puppy.

He’s been begging mum and dad for a dog for _so long_ , and they’ve always said no, that he wouldn’t take care of it, and that taking on a dog while Pris is so small isn’t a good idea… but Jaskier knows he’d take good care of the pup, he would feed it and walk it every day, and he would train it up to be a good dog -- so he’s asking Santa, this Christmas.

Santa _has_ to see he deserves to get a puppy.

He’s actually supposed to go see Santa today! His parents will be taking him after they’ve finished shopping, so that he can sit in Santa Claus’ lap and tell him what he wants for Christmas and have it come true.

...but that doesn’t mean that Jaskier can’t _look_ at all those colourful, shiny toys that he’s giving up this year. So he looks.

He looks, hungry eyes skimming the shelves, until he runs into something - or rather someone.

“Unf!” a deep voice grumbles above him, “Watch your step, kid.”

Jaskier takes a step back to apologize, but the words die on his lips. The man he ran into is _big_ , and he has _white hair_ , and he’s wearing a _red coat_.

“Santa!” Jaskier squeals, and hugs the man’s leg. “I’m _so_ happy I met you, Santa, I need to tell you what I want for Christmas! I’m _so sorry_ I ran into you, am I still on the nice list?” Oh, that would be rotten luck, to get on the naughty list this close to Christmas by accidentally being rude to Santa. “I’m so, so, so sorry, I swear it won’t happen again, Mr. Santa!”

Santa blinks down at him, once, twice - until a smile spreads over his face. He ruffles Jaskier’s hair. “It’s okay, little one,” he says in that smooth, deep voice. “It was an accident and you apologized, buddy, it’s fine. Why don’t you tell me your name?”

“I’m Jaskier!” he beams.

Santa looks around, as if searching for something. “Where are your parents, Jaskier?”

Jaskier peels himself away from Santa’s leg and tries to catch sight of his parents… but they are nowhere to be seen. Him and Santa are standing in a completely deserted aisle. “I don’t know,” he says. “Probably still trying to calm Pris down.”

“Pris?” Santa questions.

“Priscilla,” Jaskier clarifies. “My little sister.”

“Well, Jaskier, don’t worry,” Santa pats his head, “How about you come with me and tell me what you want for Christmas? And then you can find them again.”

His parents have always told him not to follow strangers… but this is not a stranger, this is _Santa_! “Yeah!” Jaskier agrees.

Santa takes his hand and leads him through a door deeper into the mall. The hall behind the door is rather bare and not as shiny and flashy as the shopping space, but Santa keeps that warm smile on his face and delicately holds Jaskier’s small hand in his big one, so Jaskier isn’t afraid.

Santa leads them into a room and locks the door behind them. The room doesn’t look like what Jaskier would expect from Santa’s quarters - there’s a ratty couch with a matching armchair, a coffee table, a fridge, a coffee maker… but also several red coats hanging from hooks on the wall, so Santa must spend time here.

“I’m just here to hear out what kids want for Christmas,” Santa says, squeezing his hand, “and then I’m moving to another town - and when I’ve met all the children, it’s back to the North Pole with me. That’s why I don’t need an elaborate set up, you know, Jaskier?”

Jaskier nods, because that makes sense. “You need the elves to focus on making toys, right?”

“Exactly,” Santa grins. “What a clever boy you are, Jaskier. That’s why I’m talking to you like this, in private. Because you are a very clever, very special boy.”

Jaskier feels himself blush at the praise. “T-thank you, Santa.”

Santa sits down in the armchair and pats his thighs. “Come on, hop up. You gotta sit on Santa’s lap when you tell him what you want for Christmas, so that he can hear you better.”

Jaskier scrambles to climb into Santa’s lap, and as he’s almost there, two big hands grab him and help him get more comfortable on Santa’s thick, strong thighs. One stays on his butt, and another on Jaskier’s knee, to help him keep balance.

“So, Jaskier,” Santa says, “tell me, what do you want for Christmas?”

The warm hand on his butt is a little distracting. Jaskier squirms in Santa’s lap and Santa gasps and Jaskier is worried he hurt him somehow. “I’m sorry!” he squeaks. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Santa reassures him, squeezing his knee. “Don’t worry about it and answer my question.”

“I want a puppy,” Jaskier tells him. “I would like a boy dog more than a girl dog, but I don’t really care, so if you only have girl dogs, you can bring me a girl dog, I’ll love her too, I just really, really, _really_ want a puppy!”

Santa chuckles. “That’s cute,” he says.

Jaskier can’t really get comfortable in Santa’s lap, so he squirms again.

“Anything else you want to tell me about that puppy of yours?” Santa asks.

“Um,” Jaskier says, and he thinks for a bit. He would be grateful for any pup, but if Santa’s offering… “It needs to be friendly,” he decides. “It’s going to be my best friend, and it needs to like to play a lot.” He feels Santa’s hand travel higher up his leg. “I - I would like it if it was little now, but would get _reaaal_ big when it was older! Not as big as Clifford, because then it wouldn’t fit in the bed with me, _duh_ \- “

Jaskier’s tangent is cut short as Santa cups his little prick through his clothes.

“Go on,” Santa says.

“Okay,” Jaskier agrees, as Santa fondles his little bits through his pants. It feels… tingly. Weird, but not bad, per se. “I would like it to be a golden retriever, or - or a dalmatian, or maybe a husky… I can’t think of any other breeds, but I swear to love any doggy you bring me, Santa!”

“Good,” Santa says, “you are _such_ a good boy, Jaskier.” He stops touching Jaskier’s crotch, and instead opens his own trousers and frees his big, hard cock. Jaskier cannot tear his eyes away from the sight of it, thick and flushed red with a pearl of moisture beading at the very tip.

“Santa?” Jaskier questions, because he’s not sure what is going to happen. He himself only takes out his prick when he’s going potty, so he’s… confused, to say the least.

“Don’t worry, Jaskier,” Santa murmurs, his deep voice calm and soothing. “You’ve told Santa all about this puppy you want, so now I’m going to tell you a bit about what I want, okay?”

Jaskier nods, gaze still fixated on Santa’s cock.

“I’ve been working real hard to make Christmas great for every single kid out there, and I’m so, so tired - you’re not gonna tell anyone, are you? It’s a secret that I’m only telling you because you are a very special boy.”

“I won’t tell, I swear!” Jaskier whispers.

“Okay, bud,” Santa smiles. “Truth be told, I could really use a massage, right here,” he squeezes his cock. “Would you help me? It would put you on the _extra-nice list_.”

“And I’d get a puppy for Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Santa agrees, “you’ll get the cutest little pup I have for Christmas, if you give me a massage.”

What kid would even say no to that?

Jaskier hesitantly wraps his hands around the thick member - he’s determined to get on the extra-nice list, and he’s determined to do a good job, but he has never given a massage before, and definitely not _down here_ , so he’s a little nervous. “How do I - “

“Just stroke it, up and down.” Santa covers his small hands with his own and guides them through the motion - up, and down. “Just like that,” Santa hisses, “you are doing so good, Jaskier.”

Encouraged by the praise, Jaskier moves his hands in a quicker rhythm, up and down, up and down. He bites his lip as he focuses.

Santa strokes his hair and murmurs about what a good, wonderful, beautiful boy Jaskier is, how good he is doing - and Jaskier, overwhelmed by sudden desire, leans forward and licks up the shiny drop of liquid gathering at the slit.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Santa moans, and bites down at his knuckles to keep himself quiet. When he calms down a bit, he asks, “Does that taste good, bud?”

The liquid is a little viscous on Jaskier’s tongue, and it’s salty and just a little bitter. Jaskier shrugs.

“Maybe you need another taste, then?” Santa hums, warm, fond amusement flickering in his eyes. “You can give the tip a little kiss, if you want.”

Kisses sound nice, Jaskier thinks. He keeps pumping Santa’s cock, but he brings the head closer to his face and starts giving it kisses. Santa grunts and gasps above him, obviously pleased by Jaskier’s attentions, so Jaskier wraps his lips around the tip and sucks.

Santa groans, and suddenly there’s hot, bitter liquid flooding Jaskier’s mouth in several spurts. He doesn’t expect that, so he chokes on it a bit, but he does manage to swallow some of it.

Santa gently pulls him away from his cock as he chokes, and slaps his back a few times to help Jaskier catch his breath again. When Jaskier is breathing normally again, he pulls out a pack of paper tissues and cleans up Jaskier’s face and both of their clothes.

“Was I good?” Jaskier asks.

“You were the best,” Santa says, and kisses the top of his head. “I’ll make sure to get you the cutest puppy in the world.”

“Thank you, Santa!” Jaskier beams.

“Now, Jaskier, I need you to promise not to tell anyone about this, okay? Other kids would be sad and jealous if they ever found out you are Santa’s most favourite, most special boy, and neither of us want that, do we?”

“No, we don’t,” Jaskier agrees. “I promise I won’t tell!”

“Good,” Santa says, and kisses him again. “You should probably go back to your parents now, I’m sure they are getting worried.”

Jaskier finds his parents without much effort. His mum scolds him for wandering away and worrying them, and then she tells him that because of his little stunt, they don’t have time to go see Santa anymore.

Jaskier would brag that he has already met Santa, but he made a promise and he refuses to break it.

A few days later, on Christmas morning, when Jaskier comes down to the tree, he’s greeted by a cute small Jack Russel terrier pup with a red bow around his neck, and he’s the happiest boy in the whole wide world.


End file.
